


will we take a chance, my love?

by WriterWinged



Category: RWBY
Genre: Fair Game Week (RWBY), M/M, i dont know flirting, i really like fancy titles, ive managed to connect three of the days, thats an offical tag already?, wow they work fast
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23181031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterWinged/pseuds/WriterWinged
Summary: Days 1-3 of Fair Game Week 2020.
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	will we take a chance, my love?

**Author's Note:**

> this isnt late, i still have 3 1/2 hours. and a test in 11 1/2. woohoo!
> 
> For FairGame Week 2020, Day 1: Flirting/Semblances. I have no idea how flirting works, but the ending came out of left field for me too. this is unbetaed and done in several sessions with no planning, so it might feel choppy.
> 
> (i still cant believe that i have two chaptered fics for this)

“Alright lucky charm, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Qrow asked, walking (he did not strut, Yang!) in the Atlas training room. Clover looked up at him and grinned.

“Well, I was actually hoping to see if you would train with me. We are partners after all.” He winked at him, like back in the mines. Qrow would deny to his last breath (or until one of his kids wore him down) that he did not blush or blue screen at that wink. _He didn’t._

“Uh, sure.” His traitorous, traitorous mouth spoke. Clover’s grin became more sharp as he stepped towards Qrow, his head tilting to the side.

“And maybe try our hand-to-hand after?” He was purring, that was a fucking purr in his voice. Qrow could only nod dumbly, his face feeling like it was aflame. Clover stepped away, that damn smirk on his face. “Well, let’s start then.”

Qrow couldn’t even blame his Semblance for his abysmal performance, that could be blamed entirely on Clover. He would not stop flirting with him, he kept saying sweet things to him and touching him. Every time he slipped, Clover was there, helping him up with a hand that definitely stayed longer than it needed to.

By the end Qrow wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. He did know that it was dangerous for him to be practicing hand to hand right now. Mostly because he was sure that Clover would be able to feel his embarrassment and arousal through his clothes. And Qrow might kiss him if Clover ended up under him.

Qrow immediately ran into the nearest wall and fell on his ass. What the fuck, where did that come from? He tried to shake the thought from his mind, but it stayed there, like a burr. He was so glad none of the kids were watching, they’d never let this go. His nieces especially, they were too good at reading him.

“Had enough?” Clover teased, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the sprawled out Huntsman. Gods, he was far too cute. And he looked pretty tied up in Kingfisher's line. Clover considered that thought for a moment before shelving it. If he managed to ask Qrow on a date, he might have to see how he felt about the idea.

Qrow snorted at his challenge, but took his outstretched hand regardless. Coming face-to-face with Clover, he shoved his feelings down, praying that Clover would think the flush on his face was from exertion.

“You aren’t going to get out of losing that easily, Lucky Charm.”

“Oh? That confident, Birdie? I am one of the best in Atlas and that includes hand-to-hand.” Qrow let out a bark of laughter at his declaration, shoving his reaction to the nickname down.

“That may be, but you Atlaisans are predictable. Not even Jimmy can beat me.” Qrow explained confidently, a smirk on his lips. Clover’s eyes narrowed at his challenge, his smile vanishing.

“Is that so.” His voice was flat “Let’s see how ‘predictable’ I really am.” Qrow’s eyes widened as Clover suddenly tightened his grip on his hand and pulled. Qrow lurched forwards, Clover’s other hand reaching for the back of his neck. Qrow twisted out of the way, breaking Clover’s hold on his hand and darted away.

Stopping outside of Clover’s reach, Qrow felt a delighted grin stretch across his face, “Well, well, Lucky Charm. Where’d you learn that? Certainly not something that Atlas folks approve of.”

“Beat me and you might get to know.” Clover challenged, circling Qrow.

“Oh? Adding stakes to this now, are we? And what do you get if you win?” Qrow didn’t take his eyes off the Ace Ops for one second, following his movements.

“How about a favor? Within reason, of course.” Clover’s eyes were bright and focused entirely on Qrow. He felt a shiver race down his spine, the feelings that he had managed to push down surging up again at the feeling of being the sole focus of those eyes.

“Alright then, I’ll accept.” Qrow replied, once more shoving those feelings down. He had no idea what Clover would ask, but he trusted him. Only a few short weeks and he trusted Clover. It was something. It felt like he was young again, back in those golden weeks where STRQ was closest and they didn’t know about Salem.

Qrow shook off those thoughts and focused on the here and now, dodging out of the way of one of Clover’s fists. Qrow always fought like it was a dance, he had to. His Semblance could change anything at a moment’s notice and he had to be able to react to it quickly. Clover was swift and sure, knowing that he wouldn’t have to change quickly, his Semblance under control. And that was both his weakness and his strength.

Qrow danced around Clover, their Semblance’s flaring, Qrow’s unpredictably, Clover’s with each pin flick. It was so different than any other time Clover or Qrow had sparred, having to keep track of twice as many changes, but it was fun.

“Come on, Qrow! I thought you said not even the General could beat you?” Clover teased, managing to, once again, pin Qrow beneath him. Qrow was speechless. Ironwood had never managed to beat him one-on-one, even when he had to replace half his body. He danced when he fought, every step light and quick, giving him an advantage against the far more direct General.

Clover, while still having the Atlaisian directness, was also a dancer. Not as much as Qrow, but enough of one that it threw him off. He may have gotten in over his head. He may have underestimated Clover.

“I may have been hasty in calling you predictable.” Qrow replied grudgingly, turning his head away. He’d already tried to escape or flip their positions, but Clover had grown wise to the tricks he was willing to use on an ally. Clover laughed, shifting so he was curled over Qrow, his arms bracketing his head.

“So, are you saying I win?” Qrow nodded, his face now flushed as he realized just how suggestive their new position was. “You owe me a favor then. Mind if I cash it in right now?”

“What in the Gods’ name would be worth cashing it in right now?” Qrw turned to look at Clover, a quizzical look on his face.

“A date with you.” He stated matter of factly. Qrow’s mind went blank. “So, you willing, Pretty Bird?”

“Sure.” Qrow squeaked, his mouth running on auto-pilot. Clover gave him a sweet smile and stood up, pulling the startled bird with him.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.” With a wink, he was gone, leaving Qrow standing in the middle of the training room, his face beet red.


End file.
